In Motion: Bellingham, Poetry, San Juan Islands, Ted Talks

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Monday, October 8, 2012

Fogiveness

As a writer I am often overtaken by my characters. Trying to imagine what a new character is
thinking, how they would walk, talk, what kind of clothes they wear and what
they’ll do next is in the job description.
Yet sometimes I’ll have an encounter SO real that it seems more like entertaining
a house guest instead of character development.
Visitation or not this interesting dream encounter with a former
plantation slave moved me.

While working on copy for my radio blues program, Boosie’s
Playhouse Classic Blues, an unexpected guess knocked on the door of my subconscious. Late one evening I was focused on the origin of the blues. I learned that the blues started in the fields by slaves
call and responding to each other in rhythm to help make the tedious work go by
faster, and to communicate with each
other, sometimes in code. Still thinking
on this, I retired for the night, slipped under the covers and fell into a dream.

Visitation

In my dream I sat writing at a desk, wrestling with words, when the
spirit of a man walked in and sat down across from me. The outline of his form glowed giving no
doubt that he crossed over from another world, the gateway behind him was blurred. Lights in the room changed with his presence,
turning from fluorescent to candlelight, the walls of the room from brick to
log, and the furniture itself changed before my eyes from 21st century to the 19th.

Somehow, in my dream, I knew all about proper ghost etiquette.
When you meet a spirit it is like having
the sensation of a butterfly landing on your cheek. It is wonderful, yet you know instinctively
how fragile they are. You can scare them
away with sudden movements or loud noises.
They do not want anything from you, but for you to listen. Listen to their story, to hear their voice. If you are fortunate enough to hear a spirit
speak, do not ever forget what they tell you.
You must, out of respect for the dead, always remember what it is they tell you. The only wish of the
dead is to be remembered. And so, I opened
my understanding, while I waited for him to speak.

The ghost in my dream had beautiful dark skin, light brown
cotton trousers hung from his hips and a loose fitting white shirt. Broad shoulders and strong arms framed his
torso. He must of been, at least six feet tall
when standing. His demeanor, and this is most important, was like a deep
river, moving peacefully. He was going
to talk to me; I could feel it, as long as I stay still, and so I did...

His large hand rubbed his face as he started to form
words. My ears perked up as his story filled
my mind; his voice was warm, “I came
here to explain to you what it was like to be a slave. Being a slave is to be tortured. To have to no control over your life. Your
day and life are chosen for you, and yet you dream. You dream of what you think freedom would be
like. You dream of control. It seems you
have been hurt for a long time and prayed those silent prayers while enduring
your pain, and that you kept walking through the pain. That is how I found you.” The air tingled as his voice gave
instruction, “Listen now. Being free, legally free, will not give you
true freedom. Until you forgive those
that hurt you, you will always be bound up in chains!”

He continued using words and images as he told me his story.
For half his life he was a slave in Georgia, then in
1866, he was a free man working as a sharecropper up North. His children were born free, by his wife who
wore his ring, in the home he owned. His dream to control his own destiny came true,
yet something was missing: forgiveness. Somehow along the way, he found forgiveness for
the slave owners. He said he knew those
dark hearten torturers would never tell him they were sorry, they would never
beg for his forgiveness, so to rid himself of the final burden HE forgave THEM. Those mindless, faceless, nameless torturers
of slaves, he forgave them.

The Gift of Forgiveness

Forgiveness insures that the people who hurt us do not
continue to hurt or have power over us. You must forgive in
order to move on. I was overwhelmed with
joy to hear my ghost friend share his story.
He left with a whisper as I woke with a jump. I knew I had to write it all down, every
detail!

Some believe that the power to forgive is a gift from heaven. The Visitor's comment "walking through my pain" was in reference to my recent divorce. Many divorcees hold onto their hatred for
their ex’s. I have met ladies who hold
onto hate. I have seen how it keeps them
from enjoying the new life they are trying to build for themselves. Hate makes us sick!

If you really want to be free from hate, you have to forgive. This is true for me; I know it without any
doubt.

What an interesting dream.
I shall think on it for a long time.
I do not understand how or why I had this dream but I am thankful for
it. Perhaps it was my subconscious trying
to make a personal connection between what I was working on and my past. Or perhaps, just maybe, a spirit came to
talk.